


Being Neighborly

by rthstewart



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Little Women Series - Louisa May Alcott
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21621235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rthstewart/pseuds/rthstewart
Summary: Caspian is locked in his tower and feeling poorly.  Lucy sets out to rescue the Prince.
Relationships: Caspian/Lucy Pevensie
Comments: 27
Kudos: 64
Collections: Lucian Exchange 2019





	Being Neighborly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [be_themoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/be_themoon/gifts), [loveandrockmusic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveandrockmusic/gifts).



> Be_the_moon, I went off prompt here. But you seemed to like Larm's idea of a Little Women/Narnia fusion and this immediately came to mind.

Heavily inspired by and reliant upon the chapter "Being Neighborly" from _Little Women_ by Louisa May Alcott.

* * *

"What in the world are you going to do now, Lucy?" asked Edmund one snowy afternoon, as his sister came tramping through the hall, in rubber boots, coat, and hood, with a broom in one hand and a shovel in the other.

"Going out for exercise, of course!"

"I should think two long walks this morning would have been enough! It's cold and dull out. I would advise staying warm and dry by the fire. Perhaps Susan and Peter can revise our script for 'The Tragedy of the Lonely Boy Locked In The Tower' and you can practise your part as the wicked Uncle?"

Lucy always liked playing the villain in their Narnia stories, whether wearing fake mustaches and twirling them diabolically or donning a white sheet as the Always-Winter-Never-Christmas Queen. 

"Never take advice! I can't keep still all day! I like adventures and I'm going to find some."

"Right ho, then! Carry on!" Edmund waved her off and went back to warming his feet, sharing his toasted cheese sandwich with Scrabble the Rat, and reading Shakespeare's dramas.

Lucy tromped out of doors and began digging paths about their little house with terrific energy. The snow was light and fluffy and, with her broom, she soon vigorously swept a path all-round the garden.

Now, the garden separated the Pevensies' little house from the much grander home belonging to Mr. Telmar. Both stood in a suburb of London, in a part that was still green (when it wasn't winter) with lawns, large gardens, and quiet streets. A low hedge separated the two estates. On one side was the Pevensies' old, brown house, looking shabby and bare in the winter cold without the vines and flowers that covered it in warmer months.

On the other side was a stately stone mansion, plainly betokening every sort of comfort and luxury, from the big coach house and well-kept grounds to the conservatory and the glimpses of expensive things one could see between the rich curtains.

Yet it was a lonely, lifeless sort of house, empty and forbidding. The stern Mr. Telmar and his nephew lived there. Mr. Telmar would leave each morning very early and return quite late. Apart from the servants, the only other people who ever went in and out of the house came at very odd hours and were themselves very queer. It was all thoroughly mysterious and quite captured the imaginations of their neighbors, the Pevensies. Peter was certain Mr. Telmar was a Nazi spy. Susan was terribly concerned for the nephew, young Master Telmar, who they would sometimes see peeking out an upper storey window. Master Telmar had become the inspiration for their play of the Prince who would be King locked in the Tower and desperately in need of rescue.

To Lucy's lively fancy, this strange house seemed a kind of enchanted palace, full of splendors which no one enjoyed, and with deadly peril and skullduggery lurking behind every corner. She had long wanted to behold these hidden mysteries and to know, and possibly rescue, the Telmar boy, who looked as if he would like to be known (and possibly rescued), if he only knew how to begin. No desperate messages had yet to traverse between the two homes, however.

And so it was indeed fortuitous that, on that day as Lucy was sweeping and shoveling her way between the two houses, she spied a young face at an upper window, looking wistfully down into their garden, where Susan and Peter were pelting one another with snowballs. 

"That boy is suffering for society and fun," she said to herself. "His Uncle does not know what's good for him, and keeps him shut up all alone. Surely he needs rescuing."

This idea inspired Lucy, who liked to do daring things and was always scandalizing Peter and Susan with her energetic notions. Certain that Mr. Telmar was off on his mysterious Government Business (and she agreed with Peter, it was plainly an elaborate cover for a Nazi spy ring), Lucy dug and swept her way through the snow to the hedge separating their home from the Telmar mansion. It was all very quiet, with all the lacy curtains drawn, no servant in sight, and nothing human visible but a blonde head leaning on a thin hand at the upper window.

Up went a handful of soft snow, and the head turned at once, showing a face which lost its listless look in a minute, as the big eyes brightened and the mouth began to smile.

Lucy waved and laughed, and flourished her broom as she called out, "How do you do? I'm Lucy! Are you sick?"

The boy opened the window and croaked out as hoarsely as a Raven, "I am Caspian and am doing better, thank you. I've had a bad cold and been shut up a week."

"I'm sorry. What do you amuse yourself with?"

"Nothing. It's dull as tombs up here."

"Don't you read?"

"Not much. They won't let me. I might get ideas, you see."

Lucy's distrust of Mr. Telmar settled immediately to a firm dislike. She wasn't much of a reader herself, preferring action and adventure and reading the lines other, more clever people wrote for her, as Susan and Peter did. But the thought of not letting someone read if they wished to do so was plainly a terrible tragedy and suspicious besides.

"You should have someone come and see you then."

"Who? I don't know anyone."

"You know me," Lucy replied.

"So I do! Will you come, please?" cried Caspian.

"Certainly. Now, shut the window, like a good boy, and wait till I come."

With that, Lucy shouldered her broom and marched into the house, committed to her plan to rescue Caspian from the clutches of his Uncle. If the servants did not open the door to admit her, surely she could use her broom and shovel to break it down and spirit him away before his Uncle returned from cavorting with spies.

Caspian, in the meantime, was aflutter with excitement at the idea of having company, and flew about to get ready. He brushed his blonde hair, putting on a fresh collar, and tried to tidy up his parlor which, despite having half a dozen servants, was anything but neat. Presently there came a loud ring, than a decided voice, asking for 'Mister Caspian," and a surprised-looking servant came running up to announce a young lady.

"All right, show her up, it's Miss Lucy," said Caspian, going to the door of his little parlor to meet her. Lucy was looking quite fresh and rosy, with a covered dish in one hand and three kittens in a basket in the other.

"Here I am, bag and baggage," she said briskly. "Susan wanted me to bring some of her blancmange pudding, she makes it very nicely, and Edmund thought his cats would be comforting, which shows you what his notions of peaceful convalescence are. Peter has provided a spy novel for you to read – don't tell your Uncle. I knew you'd laugh at all this collective good cheer, but I couldn't refuse, they were so anxious to do something."

One Kitten, black and white, and the boldest, popped his head up out and looked about, blinking. "I should like to climb those long things," the Kitten said and scrambled out of the basket.

Caspian put his hand out to scoop up the Kitten just before he before leapt across the rug to make a ruin of the parlor curtains. "You talk!"

"Of course I talk. Don't your Cats talk?"

"They do not, Master…" Caspian replied.

"Trufflehunter," the Kitten said.

"I'm afraid I cannot permit you to climb the curtain, Master Trufflehunter, for we will both be scolded dreadfully."

"Oh very well. You may pet me under the chin, behind the ears, and scratch the base of my tail. And if you have any string or yarn, I will consent to play with you."

Caspian gently tucked Trufflehunter under his arm and delicately scratched his ears; the Kitten began purring his approval.

"And Lucy, that looks too pretty to eat," Caspian said, smiling, as Lucy uncovered the dish, and showed the pudding, surrounded by a garland of green leaves and the scarlet flowers of Edmund's pet geranium.

"You are very welcome of course. You can have it with your afternoon tea, along with honey and lemon. It's so soft, it will slip down without hurting your sore throat."

She handed the dish to a hovering servant, who was eyeing Trufflehunter warily.

"What a cozy room this is!" Lucy set the basket on the rug and sat cross-legged next to it. "The Kittens shall destroy it in no time if we don't mind them, so I shall just sit here to keep them out of mischief." Two more Kittens, nearly identical Gingers, clambered out of the basket and into her lap. "This is Trumpkin and Pattertwig. She dropped her voice to an exaggerated whisper, "They are a little more shy than their big brother."

"I am terribly rude, Lucy," Caspian replied, sitting down across from her and letting Trufflehunter chew on his cuff. "Here, you are my guest and I should be amusing you."

"Nonsense!" I came to amuse you." She pulled a ball of frayed blue yarn from her pocket and unspooled it for the Kittens who began pouncing and wrestling. Would you like me to tell you a story?"

"If you don't mind, I'd rather talk," answered Caspian.

"Not a bit. I'll talk all day if you'll only set me going. Edmund says I never know when to stop."

"Is Edmund the dark-haired one who always has his nose in a book?" asked Caspian with interest.

"Yes, that's Edmund."

"The pretty one is Peter, and the long, dark haired one is Susan, I believe?"

"How did you find that out?"

Caspian colored up, but answered frankly, "Why, you see I often hear you calling to one another, and when I'm alone up here, I can't help looking over at your house, you always seem to be having such good times. I beg your pardon for being so rude, but sometimes you forget to put down the curtain at the window where the flowers are. And when the lamps are lit, it's like looking at a picture to see the fire, and you all around the table with your mother. Her face is right opposite, and it looks so sweet behind the flowers, I can't help watching it. I haven't got any mother, you know." And Caspian scratched Trufflehunter to hide a little twitching of the lips that he could not control.

The solitary, hungry look in his eyes went straight to Lucy's warm heart. Caspian was sick and lonely, and though in very rich surroundings, he was otherwise so poor while she enjoyed the richness and plenty of her home and happiness. She would gladly share her wealth, such it was, with him.

"Caspian, we will never draw that curtain again, and I give you leave to look as much as you like. I just wish, though, instead of peeping, you'd come over and see us. Edmund and I would sing and dance for you and tell stories and Susan and Peter would entertain you with our silly theatrics and the Talking Cats and Rats would make you laugh and our Talking Wolfhound would say the most embarrassing things. Wouldn't your Uncle let you come?"

"I don't think he would notice, to be honest, Lucy. He is gone so much and when he is here with his business friends, he makes me go to my room and shut the door. He doesn't want me to be a bother to strangers."

Lucy decided to not mention at that moment their theory that Mr. Telmar was really a Nazi spy but once they had gained Caspian's confidence, perhaps together they might uncover a grand conspiracy and save England. She dragged the yarn quickly about the floor for the Kittens to squeal and chase – she didn't want them revealing their suspicions, either.

Trufflehunter paused in his worrying of a loose button on Caspian's vest. "We are not strangers, of course, we are neighbors, and you would not be a bother would he, Lucy?"

"Certainly not! We _want_ to know you, Caspian."

Caspian shrugged and let Trufflehunter bat at his fingers. "I do not know any one, or have any one to go about with except my tutor, Professor Cornelius, so I just stay at home and get on as I can."

Lucy clucked her tongue in a way that managed to be disapproving, kind, and challenging. "That will not do at all, Caspian. I can certainly help you, and Peter, Susan, and Edmund as well, to make more of an effort to get out more. Never mind being bashful. It won't last long with us about."

Pattertwig yawned. "Be careful what you wish for, Caspian."

"You will never have a peaceful nap by the fire again," Trumpkin added.

Caspian turned shy again and concentrated on unraveling the thread holding the button on to his vest. He popped it off for Trufflehunter to bat about the rug. He wasn't offended at being accused of bashfulness, for there was so much good will in Lucy it was impossible not to take her blunt speeches as kindly as they were meant.

"Do you like your school?" asked Caspian asked, changing the subject, after a little pause. 

"I don't go to school, I don't have the patience for it. I wait on my great-aunt, and a dear, cross old soul she is, too," answered Lucy.

Caspian opened his mouth to ask another question, but remembering just in time that it wasn't manners to make too many inquiries into people's affairs, he shut it again, and looked uncomfortable.

But Lucy was enjoying entertaining Caspian and dearly loved telling stories. So she told him of Aunt Polly, her fat Poodle named Digory, and the Parrot, Reepicheep, that talked in Spanish. Caspian enjoyed her tale immensely about the time a prim old gentleman came to woo Aunt Polly, and in the middle of his declaration, Reepicheep had taken a fervent dislike to the suitor, tweaked his wig off his head, and made off with it. Caspian lay back and laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks and the Kittens pounced on him.

"Oh! That does me no end of good. Tell on, please," he said, taking his face out of the sofa cushion, and juggling a Kitten in each hand. 

Emboldened, Lucy told him of the play that Peter and Susan were writing, though omitting the inspiration for it. "And I shall play the villain who shall be defeated in mortal combat by Sir Peter Wolfsbane and Dame Susan Bow-arm and the day shall be won, the Prince released from captivity, and Narnia made free."

"Narnia?" Caspian asked, feeling a thrill at the wondrous place Lucy described.

"Oh, it's our game, a story we've created."

"Is that what you are all are doing when I see you sometimes with the crowns and swords," Caspian said shyly, for he was admitting to nearly spying on them.

But Lucy was so kind-hearted and pitied him in his loneliness. "It is! And next time, you shall join us, Caspian. You may play the part of the Prince, kept from the legitimate throne of Narnia by deceit and treachery, and my sister and brothers shall do battle and see you restored."

Caspian was so touched he blushed again. "I would like that very much, if it isn't too much trouble."

"Not at all!"

The Kittens had tired themselves out and were now dozing in Caspian's lap. Lucy gently picked up Pattertwig and Trumpkin and placed them back in the basket. Trufflehunter would not be moved from Caspian's arm.

"You've been so kind, Lucy, might I show you about the house? Especially in winter, the conservatory is very pleasant."

"Pleasant?" Lucy exclaimed, walking down the aisle of the great, glassed and airy space. The air was thick and warm and smelled wonderfully of rich earth and spicy flowers. "It is magical here, Caspian, truly." She danced lightly between the trees and flowers that seemed to sparkle and bloom more brightly as she twirled by.

Caspian gently deposited Trufflehunter in the basket with his brothers, and found a pair of shears. He cut each of the brilliant red, orange and yellow blooms Lucy admired the most and artfully tied them up with ribbon.

"Please take these home with you, Lucy, and tell your family how very much I like the medicine they sent for me today. It has never been so pleasant before."

"I shall! Oh Caspian, take care of yourself, and do come to visit us the moment you are well."

"I shall, Lucy. Even the villains of Narnia shall not keep me from your side!"

She laughed. "Good night, Caspian!" and skipped through the snow back to her own home.

"Good night, Lucy, good night!"

Lucy's long report to her brothers and sister took nearly as long as her hours of visiting. Edmund longed to see the great library and Peter and Susan wanted to see the curios, suits of armor, and other fine and interesting things.

"We shall edit the story to include Caspian tonight!" Peter vowed.

"That was very nice what he said about the medicine we sent him," Edmund said.

"Oh, yes," Lucy agreed. "He meant the pudding, of course." She did not understand why Susan and Peter began laughing at her.

"What?"

"Oh Lucy, darling, he meant you, of course," Susan said.

"What on earth do you mean?"

Peter patted her shoulder. "Lucy, you don't know a compliment when you get it."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Caspian is very nice and I like him as well as anyone I have ever met, but really. I see nothing sentimental about it at all. Edmund, don't you agree?"

"I was thinking about our Narnia play," Edmund answered, who had not heard a word. "We need to think of how we shall awaken the Trees to fight for our cause and rescue Caspian."

"We have got to get by the lions first," said Lucy, as if she rather liked the prospect.


End file.
